Severance Season 2 Works Overtime To Deliver Striking Imagery and Sharp Commentary

As we continue well past the honeymoon phase of the streaming era, with services cutting what they offer, raising costs, and canceling shows that take risks, it can feel like we’re plunging further into the age of “mid-TV,” as the New York Times dubbed it. Creatively risky programs are on the decline, and even HBO, once the litmus test for good television, put out more uninspiring programs than great ones in 2024.

Thankfully, though, it seems that showrunner Dan Erickson and director/EP Ben Stiller didn’t get the memo for where the small screen has been headed. The second season of Severance is just as strange, creative, lavishly shot, and deeply compelling as the first, taking us into the bowels of white-washed bureaucratic absurdity with a mixture of dry humor and sharp vitriol. In the six episodes that were provided for review, gripping interpersonal drama and well-considered corporate critiques ensure there are plenty of reasons to continue clocking in for one of Apple TV’s standout series.

For those who haven’t caught up with this oddball sci-fi story, it takes place in a world where workers can undergo a medical procedure called “severance,” which splits their consciousness and memories into two selves, one for work and one for outside the office. From the perspective of the “outie” (corpo speak for the original self who exists outside company HQ), they never have to work. On the other hand, the “innie” never gets to leave, which is as hellish as it sounds.

Things pick up after last season’s cliffhanger with a showstopping tracking shot as innie Mark (Adam Scott) scrambles through the byzantine halls of Lumon Industries in search of Ms. Casey (Dichen Lachman). As the camera whips around corners of stark liminal spaces like a running back dodging lineman, the ostentatious cinematography hammers home the maze-like intricacies of Lumon’s designs before Mark arrives at a now-empty Wellness Office. It’s hard not to be immediately consumed by questions: what happened to Ms. Casey, what does this company want with her, and more broadly, what the hell is going on?

These opening minutes are very much a visual statement of purpose, conveying this season’s cinematic aspirations as it skillfully captures what it’s like to be lost in the belly of the beast. From here, innie Mark and his co-workers begin to track down leads on what happened to Ms. Casey, while outie Mark and co-conspirators look for clues about his wife on the outside.

However, while our band of increasingly radicalized innies has come a long way from unquestioningly ingesting company propaganda as gospel, one of the most interesting threads in this latest season is how their employer intentionally drives a wedge between them. We see how Dylan (Zach Cherry) is tempted by his ties to his outside life. Irving (John Turturro) feels isolated from the group after losing Burt (Christopher Walken). Mark and Helly’s (Britt Lower) connection comes under strain. All of this drama naturally extends from these characters instead of coming across like forced backtracking from their unified front last season, resulting in genuinely brutal moments that weaponize how attached we’ve grown to this crew and their relationships.

Beyond the sharp characterization from Erickson and the rest of the writers’ room, this group is brought to life with an excellent batch of performances. With an increased focus on jumping between life inside and outside the halls of Lumon, we see much more of the outie version of each team member, requiring each performer to switch gears from minute to minute: Britt Lower convincingly transforms from an anti-corporate firebrand into an icy heiress and back, Adam Scott deftly blends his innie and outie as the two begin to align, Turturro capture’s Irving’s grief, and Zach Cherry is a delight in every scene. Beyond our core group, Tramell Tillman steals the show as Mr. Milchick, who receives well-earned additional screen time as the narrative conjures up some unexpected sympathy for this middle manager.

Through these characters’ struggles, this second season doubles down on its ever-present corporate commentary, highlighting how companies seek to divide workers and undercut their ability to organize and partake in collective action. And more specifically, we see the insidious ways many corporations deflect and absorb criticisms without actually fundamentally changing anything—in response to their rebellion, the innie’s complaints are acknowledged, but only in a superficial fashion that seeks to placate them instead of offering true reform.

These turns are conveyed in the series’ trademark absurd style, as Lumon offers complimentary fruit baskets in response to human rights abuses, and quarterly performance reviews take on life-defining importance. While the series continues to be more clever than laugh-out-loud funny, the overriding ridiculousness of it all helps drive home the scathing critiques of a system that dehumanizes all who participate in it, elegantly sliding between hilarious and sinister. As for the latter mood, the previously mentioned grandiose visual framing from cinematographer Jessica Lee Gagné captures the hugeness of this company with wide shots that cast these characters as tiny figures in a dollhouse. These images and the tenor of these performances further drive home the creepy pseudo-religious fervor that seems to consume Lumon’s disciples, making it all the more anxiety-provoking as our main cast stands against them.

And while the inner workings of Lumon and what the company is ultimately after remains elusive through the first six episodes of this season, we at least get closer to the truth as we’re invited inside company meetings full of cryptic jargon that sucks us further into this mystery. A few questions are answered, and many more are introduced, but events are still propulsive and well-paced thanks to many paradigm-shift moments, like an unexpected company outing or a risky gambit by outie Mark brought on by his obsession with finding his wife.

Related to this, if there’s admittedly a reason why it may be wise to hedge a tiny bit of excitement for this season, it’s that the show has leaned even further into teasing its larger enigmas without providing explanations. While there are enough breadcrumbs to string us along, the continued emphasis on mystery box-style storytelling inherently sets up for potential disappointment—this is less a criticism and more an acknowledgment that we don’t have the complete picture of how this season will pan out yet. Thankfully, compared to many other stories in this style, even if these reveals are lackluster, there are enough interesting ideas and well-portrayed characters to prevent this tale from being a total bust.

While this series continues to be coy about its central secrets, the first six episodes of Severance’s second season are as clever, aesthetically impressive, and attention-grabbing as the first. We’re taken to exciting places as these outies are confronted with Lumon’s frightening reach, and the innies are surrounded by bizarre corporate rituals, both plotlines united by inspired performances that highlight the horror of sharing a body with a stranger. Yes, the intriguing setup and mysteries will continue to draw in many, but what makes this story resonate on a deeper level is how it so successfully hones in on the subtle dread of a life spent click-clacking away in a cubicle. Here’s hoping that Apple’s money people keep financing this subversive gem so these workers can finally win back what they deserve.

Elijah Gonzalez is an assistant Games and TV Editor for Paste Magazine. In addition to playing and watching the latest on the small screen, he also loves film, creating large lists of media he’ll probably never actually get to, and dreaming of the day he finally gets through all the Like a Dragon games. You can follow him on Twitter @eli_gonzalez11 and on Bluesky @elijahgonzalez.bsky.social.

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